A Cadence Imperfect
by ryoku1
Summary: Cassandra Cain is probably everything his Father ever wanted in a child. Probably. Reverse Age AU.


Author's Note: This is not a strict Reverse Age AU, in fact, this is more of a Reverse Continuity AU, so Cassandra is the second Wayne child.

* * *

2

The girl is minuscule, and she looks even smaller when shes balanced in _his_ father's lap. Bruce Wayne can hold her in one arm, and like a leech, she is more than happy to snuggle into his chest. Her black hair fans out and her dark eyes are inquisitive as she looks around. They settling on him, and she smiles.

The display makes Damian want to lose his lunch, or cut off someone's ear, either would do. It's disgustingly domestic, and beneath both of them. If his leg wasn't in a cast, he'd storm down the stairs and yank her right out of his father's arms, consequences be damned. The worst part, is that she knows how he feels. Her little smiles are meant to placate him, because she doesn't care and isn't going to stop. She's been here for a total of two days, and Damian has not only been forced to deal with her presence, he has been expected to treat her with some sense of kindness simply because she's a little lost girl. Damian usually doesn't have a problem with children, most are rather cute, often stupid, and in need of protection, but this girl is not that at all. No one else seems to notice her for the threat she is.

Restraining his more base urges, Damian ambles down the stairs into the cave, maneuvering the crutch as quickly and efficiently as possible. The problem with that, is that crutches are neither quick, nor efficient, and it takes him a disgustingly long time to get down the stairs.

"Father," and he tries not to make it a demand, "I see your still playing house." Damian doesn't sneer at the end of the statement, though it is probably evident from his tone. The girl gives him a look, and it's so unconcerned that he almost wants to stab her. Then she's looking back at the computer's screen, all blinking lights and flashing text. Dismissed, unimportant. "With-" he hates her, with every fiber of his being, he hates her, "the child." In some general understanding of his nature (because Pennyworth seems to be the only one capable of it in this family), Pennyworth has been keeping a close eye on both he, and the young girl. Damian resents the attention, it isn't like he's going to gut her the second they turn their backs on him, even if he is tempted.

"Damian, she has a name." There's a warning in his father's voice, and he should listen to it. He'd been doing so well, things had been finally settling into something normal until he made a stupid mistake and landed himself in this god forsaken cast. Then she showed up. He should take that warning in his fathers tone, and back off, but he just spent all day with an itchy cast on his leg, pouring emotion onto paper because there's no where else for it to go, and even Pennyworth likes her better than him. This new child has simply come into his home, monopolized his family, and he's suppose to be happy about it. He's suppose to welcome this well trained girl into his life like she isn't some usurper. Like she isn't a threat, because she can be plied with ice cream and gentle touches, and her smiles are sweet and genuine.

It is a gross miscalculation to take her as just a child, she isn't. Father doesn't believe him, chooses not to, because he's got a complex in there somewhere, that tells him children should be children, but Damian can see it in her. In the way she moves, the way she's trained. Children don't do things like that, they're taught. There is some primal part of him that hates the fact that Father just accepts her, that she can be more than what she is, while he has to fight tooth and nail for every approving glance, and Father has never stopped distrusting him.

"When it tells me to call it by name, I might."

Father turns in the chair to give him the look. "Her name is Cassandra." It's the look he gets every time his father is disappointed in him, is angry at the bad decisions he's made, or wonders how he could have ever sired such a monster. For a while there, Damian hadn't seen that look, had felt like he was actually making progress, that he was truly earning his place in this house. Now, he knows it was just wishful thinking. His new replacement is smaller, cuter, and all together lacking in the social complexities that make him such a poor offspring, as far as his father is concerned. Obviously, Father has no shame in wrapping this little girl in his arms, holding her hand as if she's some glorified doll, and even seems to delight in spending time with her. It shouldn't sting as much as it does. Damian knew his father liked children, just never him, because Damian is not a child, and probably never was.

"Damian." This time it's a growl, and not only is Father glaring at him, the girl's eyes are squarely on him too, and that slight tick of her face is the only warning he gets.

Seamlessly the girl vaults herself off of Bruce's lap, reaching for Damian, and, well, Damian was never one to back down from a fight. She punches him squarely in the face, and it hurts. For such a small thing, she's fast, and hits hard. He has just enough time as she retracts her fist, and he breaks the crutch over her head, wood clattering to the floor. Then she's on him, not deterred in the least, shoving him so that he has to work to retrain his balance, and he pivots to kick her with his good leg, while he dodges one of her strikes. She is a warm mass of movement, and she's not holding her punches even slightly. Damian has a pretty good idea that he could take her if he wasn't injured, but it would be a close match, and they'd probably be at it for hours. With a cast there's no way he's going to be able to keep up with her for long. All he can really do is dodge, strike when he can as he tries to retain his balance and redirect her when possible.

Of course, within a few moments, Father has intervened. He just scoops her up like some sort of kitten, and the second her eyes fall on Father's, she looks ashamed and slumps. She knows she did something wrong, but she looks at him, and it's an accusation. She knows how he feels, and they both know that she was asserting her place in the house. Damian isn't going to let it stand for long.

It's their first fight, and it is far from the last.

* * *

9

Batman has been running her through training sessions, seeing what Cassandra Cain is capable of. In some ways, its good that he believes Damian now, that he has no doubt of where she came from. That should have been the linchpin, the essential details that would have made his father repulsed and distant. It isn't, and of course Damian knew it would always just be him, but this is a definite confirmation.

Damian makes a habit of coming down to watch as she spars with his father. Not every time, and not every day, but he's come down twice in person, clinging to the shadows the cave provides to get a good look at how she moves, and he's spent a decent amount of time looking over camera footage of the sparring matches. She is a symphony, Vivaldi and Beethoven, sounds translated into movement, a literal piece of art, clay that has been shaped by a master, tortured and tormented and teased into perfection. The cast will be off soon, and he needs to be prepared for her, so he watches, studies the art that is Cain's legacy.

Pennyworth and Father have already started talking about what to do with her. She has no documentation, no language skills, and she can take down a man four times her size in .7 seconds. Batman cannot let that sort of a potential danger just wander the streets, Damian understands that, because he isn't a petulant child worried about his birthright being usurped by a competitor that looks adorable in little pink dresses, and wears a playful little grin whenever she gets what she wants. No, he's going to have to show her where she belongs in this house, because it's already a foregone conclusion that she is staying. Cassandra is not a child, she is not his equal, and she will have to learn that. Since he can't very well tell her (she doesn't understand spoken language, they've figured that out) he's going to have to show her.

Bruce Wayne won't be able to treat her like the burden she is. He'll need to be nice to her for a time. It'll be up to him to put her proverbially in her place, and he can't do that if soundly thrashing her is impossible, and when going up against an opponent, the first rule is to always do the research first.

Cassandra spends most of her day training, fighting through maneuvers and challenging Batman to games that show off how athletic and playful she is. When she is not doing these things, she sleeps, not in the manor, but in the cave, curled up in a ball in some dank little cubby. Alfred has tried to coax her out of it, but hasn't had success yet. She's a think of the shadows, like he is, and Damian imagines she would find it just as difficult as he did to adjust to living as other normal children do.

Outside of watching her and running surveillance, Damian has been spending his time training his upper body, and running operations in the cave. It's not a position he enjoys, but he is long past the point of thinking his father is invincible, and he can't just sit still and do nothing when he knows Batman is out patrolling the streets.

Cassandra has no interest in such things. Since she resides in the cave, she can hear what they're saying, and obviously recognizes the timber of Batman's voice, but she doesn't pay it much mind. She just goes about her training, bouncing about the cave like a rabbit.

That night is different. Poison Ivy is stirring up trouble, releasing a new poison in a crowded nightclub, and Batman goes off the com and won't respond. Half an hour later, Damian is suiting up to go out despite the cast, heedless of Alfred's reassurances that Batman will be fine, when he sees Cassandra looking at him, and then she's just gone, vaulting out of the cave on her own two feet, and really there isn't much to be done about her. So, he gets on his bike, and grabs a spare mask. When he catches up to her, he grabs her hand, and she vaults herself up onto the cycle in the beautiful arching of a cartwheel, and they're off. He hands her the mask, and she almost tosses it away, before looking over at him, and grinning with full glee. It's on her face the next time he looks back at her.

Batman comes back on the coms before they reach him, but between the two of them, Damian and Cassandra reach the scene of the crime in record speed. They end up going toe to toe, and back to back, against a hoard of sex crazed club goers. They're hardly a coordinated lot, which works out, since Damian's mobility is hardly what it should be. Cassandra seems to just know that something is wrong with them without any oral instructions. She blends her fighting style to him, covering the weaknesses that come from his injury. She also, somehow, knows that they're only knocking people out, she watches him, and she learns, or maybe she just knew to begin with.

When they meet up with Batman, once Poison Ivy is being carted off by the police, it is quite obvious to anyone involved that he is not happy to see them waiting in the shadows. One barked order to return to the cave, and Damian is turning to leave. Cassandra doesn't follow him at first, wide eyed and inquisitive about all of the flashing lights in the club. He yells at her to follow, but she ignores him. He ends up holding her hand, and pulling her back to the bike. She goes without a fuss.

Hours later, when Batman is back in the cave, all hell breaks loose.

"What were you thinking?" Father isn't yelling. Yet. Instead, he's giving Damian the cold shoulder, his back a rigid, imposing wall, as he looks over video footage of the two of them fighting in the club.

"You were the sloppy one. If I don't contact you within twenty minutes in the field, I get in trouble. I don't see how you shouldn't also be held to the same standard!"

"Her-" Batman doesn't gesture, but Damian knows that he's referring to Cassandra, her movements a blur on the screen. She has currently decided to hide somewhere in the cave. She most certainly knew Batman would be upset, and left that for Damian to deal with. He has no doubt that she is watching them from some dark corner. "She shouldn't have been there."

"Cassandra was in no danger-"

"Damian!" And that one is a yell. "Cassandra is staying. Once the paperwork is done, she'll be adopted as Cassandra Wayne. I need you to be her older brother, to be responsible. You can't just go running off with her!"

"She is more than capable of taking care of hers-"

"She's ten, can't talk, and doesn't understand. She, cannot go out without supervision, no matter how capable she is, and you, at 12, are not supervision!"

"I was on my own at 10!" He's not going to win, he never wins these fights, because Father is immovable when it comes to him. He's willing to forgive criminals, but Damian has always been a different story. Damian retreats, because if you can't win, there's no use in staying for the fight. He doesn't even really know what a win would look like at this point.

* * *

10

The next morning, it is a surprise, when, after nine days of Cassandra living exclusively down in the cave, she is simply at the dining room table for breakfast. Obviously, Alfred has finally won that battle. Damian gives her a look that says all he wants to. He spent most of last night punishing a punching bag that didn't really have it coming, and he is still in no mood to be dealing with anyone. She takes him in at a glace, and then looks down at her food sullenly. He would venture a guess that she doesn't like being up here either. Damian takes his seat, and they eat in silence. Father isn't there, and he won't admit that a small part of him had hoped he would come, while the rest of him is decidedly happy he didn't show. Father isn't a morning person anyway, and he doesn't usually see Damian off to the mockery that is the American education system. The two of them eat in silence, but halfway through the meal, Cassandra gets out of her chair, and walks over to him.

"What?" He demands. She looks down again, this time at her hand, which is held in a fist at her side. She brings it up, and opens it. Inside, is a small little paper star in bright green paper, clumsily folded. When he doesn't do anything but look at it, she extends her hand closer to him.

Another appeasement, he realizes. An offering of sorts. If he was coming from a position of power, if he could walk without a damn crutch, or the bruised pride he sustained last night, he might accept it. As is, it's simply patronizing.

He waves her hand away, dislodging the little paper star as he goes. "Children's pastimes don't suit you-"

She punches him in the face a second after the little star hits the ground. It's a proper row after that.

* * *

19

The cast is coming off, and it cannot happen soon enough. For the past nine days, Damian has been assaulted by paper. There are little oragami hearts on his plate before dinner, cranes in his sock drawer, roses on his pillow, and boats pinned to his cast while he's sleeping.

Cassandra, for whatever reason, has made it her mission to antagonize him with colorful folded paper, that she places around his life like little mines of adolescent cheer. When he finds one, he promptly squashes it, and throws it away. It is replaced by two more, always. That lesson he has to teach her, the one about where she belongs in this house, and how he will not idly stand by while she so disgraces him, cannot wait. This nonsense must, and will, stop. This little girl, who Pennyworth so adores buying cute little dresses for, and wide brimmed sun hats, cannot be allowed to continue in this way.

Perhaps the worst part of this indignity, is the seeming pleasure Pennyworth gets out of it. Father has not been alerted to it, and neither has he taken any notice. It's below his concern, and Damian will handle it on his own, but Pennyworth, as always, seems to know all of the activities within Wayne Manor. For the past several days, he has slowly been integrating Cassandra into the home, showing her the different rooms, the things she can do here, where she belongs, when to come and go, how to work things.

Cassandra, has taken to all of it poorly. Not the attention of course, because she soaks that up like a parched plant to water, but the rest of it, she struggles with. The library for her is more of a climbing wall, made more fun because the books move, and she has tried to engage him in playing tag in it several times. The kitchen is a place for hiding, in cupboards and even once in the walk in freezer. She wants to play hide and seek there. The garden is for pulling up Pennyworth's prized flowers, something that no one in the house has been able to dissuade her from doing yet. And bedrooms, well, those are places to put things, and though she hasn't really taken to her own, (she still refuses to sleep in her own room, the cave is the only place she will sleep, hidden away and with the bats screeching and fluttering above her) she's certainly taken to leaving her little paper pieces in his.

So once the cast is off, he sends her a look, and leads the both of them down into the cave. She follows, almost eagerly, as if she's been wanting to properly fight him for weeks.

Damian doesn't lose, but neither does he win. He attributes that in no small part, to the fact that he was out of action for more than three weeks. Cassandra comes away from the spar grinning, and joyful. This will have to be changed very soon.

* * *

21

It is amended three days later. Cassandra has been suitably bested in a match, and Damian feels quite strongly that his position in the household has been asserted. Until Cassandra gets back up, and goes at him again, her eyes on fire and her limbs lightning quick.

There are more paper flowers in his bed that night when he pulls back the covers. Damian gathers them up in his palm, counting each one, before placing them on his bedside table, and laying down to sleep.

* * *

30

Cassandra, whether he likes it or not, has become something of a fixture. She likes training, and for one reason or another, she likes training with him, though Batman is probably still her favorite. She goes out of her way to make sure she spars with both of them every day, and if Damian avoids her, she goes to find him, and annoys him until he relents and gives her what she wants.

If he was keeping score of who won their matches, he probably wouldn't be pleased with how close the number is, so he stopped at some point, and that's generally better for the tentative peace he has established with his newly adopted younger sister.

Officially, newly adopted younger sister. The paperwork is finalized, and Cassandra Cain becomes Cassandra Cain-Wayne. Father and Alfred insist they celebrate, and there is cake and ice cream and presents. Alfred warned him ahead of time, so that he would have something suitable prepared.

Alfred presents her with a book, which seems contrite, until Damian sees that it is a very young children's book. It is a story about a ballerina, and it carefully goes over all of the letters of the alphabet. If she is to learn how to speak, or read, Damian supposes it's probably a decent place to start. It would be useless to most anyone else, but at the way Cassandra's eyes light up, it is obviously the most thoughtful gift of the three.

His gift is a set of small throwing knives. They aren't bat shaped or issue, and neither are they in the shape of birds, but they would be very easy to conceal, and they are of a material that is not easily detected. When she opens them, she gives him a grin, that probably says she's going to be using them on him in their next bout.

Father's gift, is a suit. Damian is struck at how small the black material is, how dressed in it, no one is going to be able to tell if Cassandra is even female. It covers her from head to toe, as black as night and scary. It isn't like his costume, with it's bright colors, her's is solid black, save for a few minor details, it looks very much like Batman's suit. This fact should not make him unhappy.

That night, Cassandra, newly dubbed 'Batgirl' is allowed to go on patrol with them. They both know she doesn't understand the instructions, but she somehow knows that she is to stay plastered to Father's side. She does, and they look like they match almost perfectly. She watches him, and she learns, and she even seems to enjoy herself. Damian remembers fighting with her in the club, how she melded her style to accommodate him, and realizes that it's just her, what she does. There was never anything resembling harmony between them. Father even allows her a bit of fun, chasing her over the roof tops.

Damian, is allowed to go on his own, provide he has a com in his ear. Father has never really encouraged that before. It's a victory, even if it doesn't feel like one.


End file.
